Aislin Meets Deimos
by Niana Kuonji
Summary: This is sort of a 'what if' scenario. What if two OCs from two different stories of the same anime universe met? Focuses on the OCs. Some swearing, and one hell of a drinking contest. Read Winter's Rose and Demons Abroad, at the very least, first!


Surprise! Loyal readers, say hello to the collaboration I mentioned in the most recent chapter of Autumn Storms. Ah, well, most of it, anyway. It's still something of a work in progress.

Starling: Translation, they're making it up as they go along.

—_sweatdrops—_ Um, yeah. Basically. I got NeoZaku to agree to let me post what we have. This started as a 'what if' situation. As in, 'what would happen if an OC from _my_ Yu Yu Hakusho fanfic(s) met an OC from _your_ YYH fanfic(s)?' It kind of snowballed, as things tend to do around Aislin. Just a quick heads-up; this will make worlds more sense if you pop over to NeoZaku's page and read _Demons Abroad_. Also, the bit with Hiei hasn't actually happened yet in there. (NeoZaku's a bit slow about updating. _—winces—_) Please don't kill us?

Disclaimer: Neither NeoZaku nor I own anything of Yu Yu Hakusho except for various merchandise. Plus, we're broke college students. You'd get nothing even if you _did_ sue.

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It's a glorious sunny day in the prefecture that Yusuke Urameshi calls home. For once there is no sounds of fighting, not even between groups of school punks, here in one of the quieter neighborhoods. There is only the noises of the occasional car, bird-song, and irritated knocking.

The person who comes to answer the knock on his door is not what the 'guest' was expecting. Six feet one inch of built-for-function gaijin stands in the doorway of the rented apartment in a worn bathrobe, glaring blearily into the early morning light in the fashion reserved for door-to-door salespeople who don't have the decency to wait for noon.

His hair is a carrot-red shock rumpled over a single bright blue eye, the other eye hidden behind a plain black eye-patch. The side of his face with the eye-patch is coated in a thick flesh-colored paste, almost like a mud-pack.

From a little under a foot and a half below his eye-level—and at least a foot below where he's looking—comes a voice to match the irritated knock. "A-HEM."

He looks down. His one visible eyebrow rises at the sight of a slender, petite female standing on his front porch, every inch of her four-foot-ten frame radiating her displeasure. Part of it is exasperation that so many of the people she meets are so much taller than she, but most of it is related to the reason she came.

One of the man's broad hands reaches for his eye-patch and lifts it a fraction, not enough for the woman to see under it but apparently enough for whatever he'd wanted to do. There comes a faint sound of an electrical hiss and the eye-patch is lowered with a visible wince.

"What is it?" he rumbles, not even bothering with manners this early in the morning.

"I came to discuss the matter of the sword you broke yesterday," his guest replies, turquoise eyes cold. Her hands are tucked into the sleeves of her white coat that is only a shade less pure than her hair, her snug pants and her calf-length leather boots all snowy white. Her skin is hardly darker, and the only real contrasts are those bright sea-green eyes and the stripes of maroon in front of her ears.

The man pauses a moment, obviously considering, before grudgingly moving aside. "Come inside. And don't blow anything up; it'll attract attention." He yawns as he disappears back into his apartment, never doubting that his guest would follow after. He doesn't comment on the fact that she's wearing winter clothes when it's already eighty degrees outside.

She does follow him in, toeing her boots off just inside the door as she looks around. "The only thing likely to 'blow up' is my temper if you decide to provoke me," is her acidic reply, snowy eyebrows rising at the carefully remodeled walls that are still clearly thicker than the outside would indicate. "Inari save us, how much junk did you manage to stuff this place with?" she inquires. "I've seen _weapons-bases_ with thinner walls."

"More than I'd bother telling you," her host replies from the kitchen as he pours himself a cup of whatever's brewing in the coffee-maker. From the scent of it alone, the youkai counts herself fortunate that he hasn't offered to share. "Now. You said you came to discuss the matter of a broken sword. I have to tell you that it isn't often a demon comes to visit me."

One white arch stays up. "It isn't very often someone besides Hiei manages to snap his sword in two. The fact that the damn thing is a Manzanaki blade compounds my irritation."

He glances at her over his coffee mug, then appears to be reading something off the ceiling. "Hm. Yes. But who is Hiei, and why should you or I care that his sword is broken?"

His guest twitches. When she speaks, her words are carefully spaced out and forcibly calm. "Hiei is my soul-brother, and _I _care because _I_ am the one who usually ends up fixing the damn thing."

"My original question remains: who is Hiei?"

This time he's willing to swear that the atmospheric temperature drops significantly. When he checks his internal thermometer he finds that it has—it's gone from a balanced seventy degrees to nearer forty. His breath starts fogging in the chill.

"Hiei is the fire apparition you faced in battle yesterday."

"Wait." The man holds up one finger, swirling the contents of his cup to make sure it isn't going to instantly freeze on him or something. "Shrimpy, about your height? Black, spiky hair and a really bad attitude?"

"Yes," the female growls. "_That_ is Hiei." His attention is drawn by a faint glassy cracking noise; ice crystals are sprouting around her feet.

"Don't ruin the floor," he chides. "I don't want to lose my security deposit."

She steps from the ice with a sharp _crack_, the spires vanishing into thin air as quickly as they'd grown while she seats herself at the small table. The apartment, aside from the alterations, is Spartan at best; the only furniture in the main room is the table, a modest television, and a phone on the wall. "If you would rather not lose your deposit—not to mention a few bodyparts—I would suggest that you stop provoking me as I'd warned you not to. I don't particularly care that you survived Yusuke's Spirit Wave and a Double Spirit Gun, give me enough time and I'm certain I can dismantle you."

A crack of his neck accompanies the placement of his cup in the sink. He absently checks the contents of his small fridge and mutters, "I knew I should have stocked this better for guests."

"Don't bother, please. I've already eaten for the week." As her host sits down at the table across from her, her eyes dart to the bright shock of his hair, a faint smile flashing across her elfin face.

"So why are you complaining to me about this? In case you hadn't noticed, I didn't break the sword. Your _Hiei_ broke it on _me._"

To his mild surprise that faint flash turns into a broad grin and her chin is propped in one hand. "Because I rarely get to yell at people who've faced any of us. It's a measure of your durability that you've managed to live through all the crap the boys have put you through."

"I believe he also mentioned something about a favorite tunic being ruined as he went flying."

A slender hand waves that comment away. "Pft. A tunic is nothing compared to his sword, especially since I hadn't given the tunic as a birthday present." When her host pops his neck again and runs his fingers through his shock of hair her grin takes on a wicked edge. "Out of curiosity, are you related to a boy named Kuwabara Kazuma?"

His heavy fingers drum on the table as he glares at the smaller female, a slight twitch around his uncovered eye betraying his frustration. "Why does everyone I meet ask me that same damn question?" he demands irritably. "Is it the hair, or…?"

"Just a moment, I have a picture of everyone in my pocket." A moment of rummaging in a sleeve produces a Polaroid that is set on the table, a pearly, slightly-pointed nail tapping the tall, lanky red-head standing in the background. "This is Kuwabara, as he prefers to be called."

The man picks up the photo, studying it for a moment. "Kazuma Kuwabara, age sixteen, weight one-hundred seventy-six pounds, six-foot even," he rattles off in a monotone, going on to include the youth's address, school records and even his medical data.

The white-haired woman sits in surprise as her host continues on, listing all records of the other people in the image—with the obvious exception of Hiei, who has no records to be found in the Human World. He does, however, list off his guest's information. "Aislin Moors, second-year student at Meiou High, recorded age seventeen. Weight eighty-five pounds, height four feet ten inches. Excels particularly at physical education, language and history. Why don't you have hospital records?"

Aislin blinks, taken aback, and then regains her composure. "Well. That was certainly unexpected. For starters, I _am _a youkai. Since you know my name—and that _is_ my real name—why don't you even the score by telling me yours?"

The large man sits back on his heels, grinning in an annoyingly Yusuke-like fashion, pleased to have caught his guest off guard. "Patrick T. Senmat, but these days I go by Deimos."

"Deimos…Deimos…" Aislin taps her chin thoughtfully. "Where have I heard that name before…?" A few more seconds, and then she snaps her fingers. "Of course! You're that American hunter my informants have been squawking about! Your kill-score is quite impressive—" her mouth quirks, "—for a cyborg."

Deimos gives her a brief chuckle as he reaches for a hand towel left on the table and uses it to wipe off the concealing mud-pack, peeling off the eye-patch while he's at it. "Caught, am I?" Freed from hiding, a red disk flashes erratically in the metal-plated side of his face, occasionally sending a tiny arc of lightning towards Deimos' ear. It reminds Aislin vaguely of the only female of the Demon Kings of Makai, the one named Mukuro, except for the arcing bit.

"Even if Yusuke hadn't told me about you—he thought you'd died in orbit until yesterday—your scent is a complete giveaway."

"Urameshi knows I'm alive?"

"Hiei."

Deimos sighs in mock-disappointment. "Damn. I was hoping to savor the look on his face when I showed up on his doorstep."

"No such luck. Hiei came storming into our study session fit to burn the house down, snarling about a six-foot gaijin that ate his most powerful attack and then sent him flying. _Everyone_ knows you're here."

The cyborg puts his head in his hands. "Aw, damn. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to use the new toys."

_Pwerk._ A pair of fuzzy, rounded white ears pop up from underneath Aislin's hair, the soft triangles of an Arctic fox. The youkai woman looks around in new interest, a half-smile pulling at her lips. All she can see is a long case that resembles a rifle-safe over by the bedroom door. From this angle, all she can see is molded foam. "Toys?" she chirps, "Of the military variety?"

From the dismayed expression on the remaining organic parts of Deimos' face, it's obvious that he's realized his mistake: her behavior is that of a long-time thief who still keeps in practice, her sea-hued eyes shining with interest. And he just mentioned very valuable objects.

After a moment's thought, however, he relaxes. _Even if she does steal them, it isn't like she could _use_ them, not when most of my equipment is custom-made for me. And even what isn't wouldn't be difficult to track down again._

So instead of panicking, he only gives Aislin a frown before he says, "A moment, please. I need to take care of something." Reaching down, he thumps the carpet by his knee hard enough for Aislin to feel the vibration through the floor. She leans over and watches a foot-wide panel slide back, revealing one of the most complex locks she's ever seen.

_Oh, my. Sixteen-digit combination code, thumbprint, DNA-coded, laser-imbedded security system. Aren't we paranoid. All he needs is a full-retinal scan and a tiny key to finish things off. _An impish grin. _If it takes this much for a minor storage compartment in the _floor,_ what does it take to get into the _wall

There comes the sound of whirring gears and the compartment lid unlocks, Deimos reaching in to pull out what appears to be a duplicate of his cybernetic eye. He notices her attention only as the compartment locks itself shut again, earning her a suspicious look.

He places the new eye on the table, pulling a tool from a robe pocket that looks like it couldn't have held paper without showing it, and fiddling with the eye currently in his head. Aislin is intrigued: he's only the third male master of Pocket Space that she's met in her thousand years of life, Hiei and Kurama being the other two masters.

After a moment Deimos actually pulls his eye from its socket, setting it on the table and glaring at it with his human eye as he installs the new one. Aislin lifts a querying eyebrow. "What's the matter? Bad fuse?"

"Actually," the cyborg growls, finishing with the installment and picking up the damaged eye, "Thir…no, fourteen short-outs."

Aislin leans in a bit closer, but try as she might she can't see anything visibly wrong with the thing from where she sits. So, she does what any well-mannered thief/mechanist/lock-specialist would do.

Holding out her hand with a smile, she asks, "May I?"

Regarding her with one of the most dubious looks that she has ever seen aimed at her, Deimos replies, "Wait a minute. You want me to hand over a piece of military equipment that's highly delicate and _classified_ to an obvious thief?"

"As I gathered from your expression, you don't think I can use any of it. Besides, I didn't come here to steal."

"So you admit you're a thief."

"I've been one for almost a thousand years, Deimos. It isn't anything I'm ashamed of, and very few females can claim to be the retired Queen of Thieves."

Manners keep her from laughing in his face as he sits there with an introverted expression, eyes scanning invisible text and muttering under his breath, "Okay, that's still there, that's still there, _that's_ still there, thank God…"

"As well as the high-density laser, the various force weapons, and all of the interesting tools you've stocked most of your cupboards with."

"I would ask, but I don't think I want to know."

"I could say the same about your detailed knowledge of my friends and myself, at least as much as I have records. You'll notice I'm not bothering to ask, either."

Deimos replies with a snort and holds up his damaged eye. "As for this, I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that you're at fault."

A wide, innocent smile. "I caused you to become a cyborg?"

Deimos glares. "No. My eye. And you know what I meant."

Aislin chuckles. "After a thousand years, sometimes purposeful density is all that I have left to amuse myself with." She tilts her head thoughtfully. "Although tormenting Koenma is a close second."

Deimos, new eye firmly in place, chooses now to go get dressed. As he disappears into his bedroom, he calls over his shoulder, "Is 'Koenma' one of your demon cronies?"

"No," she calls back with a merry laugh, "Koenma is the son of King Enma Yama."

Deimos' head appears from inside the bedroom, incredulity making his remaining mortal eye go wide. "Wait, _the_ King Yama? Ruler of the dead in Japanese mythology?"

"The very same."

_"He exists?"_

Her snort is amused disdain. "Of _course_ he exists, you ninny! You've been fighting youkai—admitted, the dregs—for a few years. That alone should convince you that other myths are real."

Deimos pulls his head back into his bedroom, shuffling sounds emanating from inside. Aislin takes the opportunity to snag the 'forgotten' eye and begins to dismantle it with tools she's pulled from a pocket space in her coat sleeve. Deimos' voice is muffled the next time he speaks. "Well, official response to the creatures is that they are from a parallel universe, with localized paranatural laws of reality."

"Translated to: you don't know what we are and you don't care so long as you can blow us up," Aislin mutters darkly under her breath, the cybernetic eye already half-way dismantled and its pieces scattered across the small table.

"You're not far off," Deimos calls. Aislin winces. Damn, the man's got hearing nearly as good as hers! "The non-techno-jargon version is: we know what you and they are, my people just don't want to admit it. Can you imagine the panic that would ensue if people learned that there are real demons? There'd be mass suicides, religious hysteria, and the inevitable lynchings that would occur with the equally-inevitable accusations."

"You mean the general public," Aislin corrects absently, beginning to sort through the components now spread across the table in the order in which she'd removed them. "On this island alone there are over three thousand who are aware of the supernatural. They consist mostly of psychics, martial artists belonging to specific schools, and Koenma's human employees. Some are just people who either walk at the edges, or have encountered us once and blocked it. Homeless folks, rurouni and the like.

"In America King Enzeru, I believe the English translation of his name is 'angel', is King Yama's counterpart and friend. He's finally gathered his own team of spiritually-aware fighters and I hear they're getting to be quite good—I confess to being mildly surprised you haven't run into them yet. Sadly, for all its' size, America has roughly the same number of people aware of the supernatural." She lifts up a squishy component with a pair of forceps and examines it critically. "Did you know that there are bits of youkai flesh being used as components for your eye?"

_Taken the bait,_ Deimos chuckles to himself. What he says aloud is, "If you're going to play with that, I expect all of the pieces to be there when I get back."

"I'm not playing, I'm fiddling," she replies cheerfully, tiny forceps gently nudging the various scraps—about eight in all. _Honestly, does he expect me to just pocket things? Please. Hn, _this_ looks interesting…_

Deimos reemerges from his room clad in casual black slacks, semi-formal button-up shirt in navy blue with a rounded collar, and a calf-length black duster with red buttons. "Spiffy," Aislin comments as she hands him the reconstructed eye. It _looks_ intact.

Deimos takes it and studies it for several long moments before he holds out his hand in a similar gesture to what Aislin had used earlier. With a heavy sigh the youkai woman pulls out a chip from the furry cuff of her sleeve and hands it over. His hand remains outstretched.

Aislin grumbles quietly a bit as she fishes out several more pieces from her sleeves, pockets, behind her ear, and from the fur trim of her coat's hood, placing them all in that waiting palm. The cyborg glances at the pile and carefully snaps his fingers as a sign of impatience. Almost fuming now, Aislin opens her mouth and lifts her tongue, pulling out a tiny gold bead.

With a satisfied grunt Deimos snaps everything into place to be rewarded with a steady ruby glow from the lens.

"Happy now?" Aislin grumbles, crossing her arms with a pout. "I was hoping to actually take that last piece home and study it at my leisure. It's an amazing piece of technology, even more so if humans actually made it."

Deimos flashes her a wicked grin. "Heh, if you liked my eye, you'll love this." _Bang._ Aislin is now staring at what she can best describe as a hand-cannon that has been plunked down on the table. At base design it looks like a .50 caliber Desert Eagle, but it's been modified so extensively that the retired Queen of Thieves can barely determine between human and demon technology—and some of it is _very_ demon technology. But if she didn't know any better…

"Lord and Lady save us, is that a _spirit energy conductor_?"

"Ah, you noticed." Deimos' expression is that of a techno-geek showing off one of his favorite toys. "It's about the only workable weapon that the egg-heads have come up with."

Aislin reaches out and touches it with a reverent finger. "Is this what you hit Yusuke with?"

"Bingo."

Aislin winces. "Don't use that word, you sound like Botan."

"Who's that?"

"A Grim Reaper and one of the most upbeat, bubbly personalities I've ever meet. That's one of her favorite words and she uses it often."

She swears he twitches. "Aren't you mixing mythology?"

Aislin counters with, "Haven't you learned yet that all myths are one at their cores? Failing that, it's as close a translation as it gets. Her official title is a Ferry-girl for the River of the Dead, commonly known as the River Styx."

Deimos rubs his forehead as though to ease the beginnings of a headache. "This is going into the 'Do Not tell Bosses' file."

Another impish grin. "Aw, am I making your head hurt? I could always try making it explode."

"This," Deimos ignores her taunt and sets down a perfectly ordinary bullet, "is my standard ammo."

She picks it up and turns it this way and that in curiosity. "Sooo…the energy conductor coats it with reiki before or as it comes out? It's not set for solid energy, I recognize that much."

"Pretty observant. No, the bullet is charged as it comes out. Safer that way. But this," _thunk,_ "is the special ammo."

Leaning in closer, Aislin takes a cautious sniff and recoils with her hand cupped over her nose. "Lady Inari! What the fuck?! How much energy is _in_ these things?!" 'These things' are a clip of seven .50 caliber casings. "They smell like they can take out a city!"

Deimos looks thoughtful as he puts the casings, gun, and single bullet back into his pocket's pocket space. "Don't know."

"Don't _know_?!"

"Never fired one. They just pop out of here, one every few months or so." He unbuttons his shirt enough to bare the upper left portion of his chest, where Aislin had noticed that the silky texture of the shirt hadn't lain smooth.

Set into a sprocket-like circle seemingly grown into his skin is a translucent jewel the size of her fist, glowing a steady, silver metallic blue. Two small wires snake against his body, one trailing up to disappear into the hollow of his shoulder, the other curving down to disappear just above his heart. Sharpening her sight, the ice-fox notices tiny flecks of black buried in the depths of the jewel. For all her career and skills at being a thief, she has zero desire to steal this jewel.

Instead, she sits back of her heels and glances warily at where the offending bullets had disappeared to. "My advice on those, Deimos: don't. Don't _ever_."

He smirks, pulling something from the inside pocket of his duster and setting it down with a gentler thud. "Oh, and before I forget, this is the paperwork Urameshi caused me." A folder the size of a phonebook and just as thick sits there in silent reproach.

Aislin accepts the change in subject with an internal sigh of gratitude, offering Deimos a shadow of her earlier smile. "Yes, he's Koenma's biggest headache in that department."

A second folder is smacked down on top of the first, accompanied by a heart-felt smirk. It's about a dozen pages thick; modest compared to its' brother. "And this is the bill for the damages."

A low whistle as she peeks at the end figure. "That's his most expensive job yet. Too bad Koenma doesn't pay him."

"Since Urameshi is a minor and an employee, it would be Koenma we'd hold responsible in this matter."

Aislin's smirk suddenly matches his own. "Koenma finally being held financially responsible. I like that. I like that a lot." One snow-white eyebrow rises as she checks through the items typed neatly…wait, the man survived _how_ many satellites? One, two, three…_Lady of the Nine Tails, the man survived nine satellites all together?_ _Ooh. And this one was Black Ops—so many blacked out bits that all you get is an occasional 'a' ' the' and such. That must have been expensive._

A thin little iceblade is suddenly twirling through her fingers as she reads through the invoice, and she absently starts doing one-handed tricks. Spins, flips, and tosses are interspersed with random flicks across her knuckles, but the most interesting thing to Deimos is that Aislin doesn't seem to realize that she's doing anything at all.

He can't help but grin as he takes out a five-yen coin and times the motions, sending the coin speeding towards the glittering shard.

_Ping!_ Aislin blinks alert, looking at the coin balanced on edge at the tip of her little blade. A slight tilt and the coin rolls into her palm, tiny knife vanishing before the coin drops into her hand. Curious, she looks over at Deimos. "There are easier ways to gain my attention than actually paying me for my thoughts."

Deimos shrugs. "Until you showed up I had no way of delivering that bill to its' proper recipient. You, on the other hand, know exactly where to take it." A real smile curves his lips the tiniest bit. "Besides, government work is so boring, and like you I need to have a little fun once in a while. It's hard to get into an amusement park when you don't officially exist."

"I've never been to one," Aislin replies thoughtfully, "so I don't know what they're like. Kurama's promised to take Hiei and I the next time a carnival comes to town, or to one of the permanent local parks on our next free weekend, whichever comes first."

To her surprise her host breaks into a brief fit of chuckling. "Granted, I've only met him briefly, but Hiei doesn't seem the type to enjoy amusement parks." He can't help it: the thought of that ill-tempered, taciturn fire apparition getting dragged around a bustling park onto the rides, into attractions, and eating cotton candy just sends him into another chuckle-fit.

Aislin gives him a gamine grin and tosses her head. "I'll have you know that it'd be Kurama who'd be left behind in the dust. When he wants to, Hiei really knows how to have fun. You should see him dance! Then there's the time he drank Atsuko under the table."

"Who?"

"Yusuke's mother, Atsuko Urameshi."

"That's impressive. I brought up some of her drinking tabs when I was researching Urameshi and they're extensive."

She laughs this time, a pure clear sound that startles Deimos as it echoes around his apartment. He fixes it firmly in his mind that this is one conversation his employers will never, ever, _ever_ be told about. Ever.

"It wasn't that hard!" She leans forward with glee lighting her eyes. "Lemme tell you about the tavern-crawl I went on with Hiei for his birthday…" And she regales Deimos with the tale of the week-long drinking-spree they'd gone on, where they'd drunk a good number of taverns dry and had drunk themselves almost sick on the infamous Takenada's Demonslayers.

_Impressive,_ Deimos chuckles to himself. _It almost sounds like these two could drink _me _under the table. Almost…maybe. _

"Wait a minute," Deimos interrupts. Aislin stops recounting the 'morning after' and waits as he tilts his head to the side and assumes that 'I'm reading the inside of my brain' expression that she's coming to recognize is the cyborg going through his databanks. He snickers as he 'unfreezes'. "It appears that I have some unused vacation time."

"I should take you to Takenada's!" she suggests cheerfully as Deimos thinks, _And even if they don't want me to take it, it's not like they can stop me._

"So," the cyborg grins, steepling his fingers, "What's the wager?"

Aislin taps her chin again in thought. "Hmmm…How about a tour of Demon World and Spirit World? You'd see a bit of Makai on the way to Takenada's but it's so much bigger than that little sliver."

"Against?"

Aislin beams. "If I win, you get to show me every scrap of technology you've _currently_ got in this place and on your person." Her smile turns sharp. "No getting someone to clean this place out while we're gone."

Deimos leans back, smile fading. "I can fulfill the first part no problem, but the second part is more difficult. Even I don't know what half the shit Dr. Ichigaki put in me is."

Aislin's whole body stiffens at the mention of that name, the fur trimming her clothing puffing up like a cat's. Deimos notices absently that she's floating a good three inches off the floor. Her voice comes out in a dangerous, throaty purr. "Did you just say Dr. Ichigaki?"

Deimos hedges a bit before asking, "If I say yes, will you blow up my apartment?"

She takes a deep breath and settles herself back on the floor. "No. You are not provoking me so I must keep my word." But her hands disappear into her coat's sleeves, and Deimos doesn't doubt that there are hidden weapons being petted right now. "However, it's been quite a long time since I've seen _dear_ Dr. Ichigaki. Why don't you tell me where I might find him?"

"Frankly," Deimos growls, "you aren't the only one who'd like to know. My bosses would _love_ to get _that_ piece of information themselves. I've only met the man once, but I was pumped so full of drugs that I barely remember what he looks like."

"Troll."

"What?"

"He was a troll, not a man. I doubt it took much effort for him to disguise his ears and skin. Even a weak wretch like him could manage small things like that."

A look of hardened remembrance crosses the cyborg's face. "Well, even beyond my bosses, I would love some time alone with the doctor."

"I'll bet." Her reply is quiet, most of that chilling anger gone. "He is, after all, the reason you are fighting my kind today, is he not?"

"Hn. Partly. There's a distinct reason why I was drugged when I met him."

"Something tore you to pieces." It isn't a question. "Why else would so much of you reek of his infamous bio-organic metal?"

"I was his guinea-pig for it. Among other things. The real irony is that he got my permission first. Granted, I had no idea what was in store and he chose not to enlighten me; however, he did promise me the pain would stop and I'd be able to move again. He kept that promise."

"He never changes," Aislin says bitterly. "For centuries I've come across his 'patients', poor wretches who had been given exactly what was promised—and always at a high price. He gives with one hand, and rips your heart out with the other."

"In my case quite literally."

"I'd wondered at the lack of heartbeats. The heart you have is sluggish."

"I've no idea what creature it comes from."

"I could tell you only if I opened your chest. That metal's stink covers almost everything else."

Deimos gives her a weak smile. "Well, as little use as it is, I think I'd prefer keeping it where it is."

Aislin's smile is wry. "I wasn't seriously suggesting I try. For one thing, killing even a genetically-altered human would violate my parole and earn me a death-sentence under Spirit World laws. For another, that jewel in your chest just puts my back up."

Deimos blinks at her. "Huh?"

She nods once. "I wouldn't touch that thing on your chest for all the treasure in King Enma's vault."

His expression takes on an edge of mock-sincerity and he puts a hand on his chest. "You really know how to make a guy feel special."

"I've stayed faithful to one male for…" her face twists up as she silently counts on her fingers, "…almost five and a half centuries. I should be practiced at that sort of thing by now."

Deimos snorts, craning his neck to look at the glowing lump on his chest. "So what is it about this jewel of mine that you find so disturbing?" he asks, attempting to satisfy what's left of his curiosity.

Aislin covers her face with one hand, eyes abruptly turning feral between her spread fingers. Deimos is strongly reminded that it is a demon that's sitting in front of him, for all her fine manners and pretty looks. "That thing feel's like Hiei's Jagan eye, like it's a sentient thing with a very fast temper. It's almost like…it feels like it's a seal for you, for your sanity, for _something_ very, very strong. I may be a thief, Deimos, but even I know when to leave the fuck alone."

Her companion, however, is still stuck on her first sentence. "Jagan…?" he asks, puzzled. "Is that the thing that—" He trails off as a sapphire-irised eye opens briefly on the petite demon's forehead before sealing itself shut again. "—Glowed before he sicced a dragon on me. That was creepy, you know."

"Yes," Aislin sighs, rubbing her forehead where the eye had been, and where a glittery blue mark is now, "Hiei's Dragon of the Darkness Flame. It tends to be very effective in ending unpleasant conversations, in that it tends to eat whatever Hiei sends it after. However," her voice turns dry, "given that you're still standing, I'd say the dragon found you a little hard to swallow."

"The closest equivalent I can give it," Deimos tells her as he studies odd circles set into his palms—which Yusuke has told her absorb energy, "is that it gave me the first case of heartburn I've had in years."

"No comment. As for _my_ Jagan, it's different from Hiei's in that mine is natural, and he had his implanted. His is rather grumpy about the fact and is quick to take offense at anything it perceives as an insult. Mine is not so quick to judge, but it is prideful, and with good reason. There are very few youkai with Oracle blood anymore; fewer still with natural Jagans."

"I see." A disparity in his information suddenly presents itself for attention in the front of Deimos' head. The woman before him had made mention of the crimson-haired whip-user he'd met as Kurama, and yet his files have identified him as one Minamino Shuichi. Human. Deimos' sensors had registered the youth as a demon—and a formidable one, at that. Well, he's got the equivalent of a Ye Giant Booke of Answers, so… "The Kurama you mentioned. I admit to some confusion, since half of my information states he is human, and the rest states that he's a demon. Mind clarifying?"

"In short? A centuries-old fox youkai in the body of a human."

"…How does he have a birth certificate?"

Aislin smiles. "About eighteen years ago one of Koenma's men chased him down and wounded him severely enough to force Kurama, known then as Yoko, to flee his body. His soul fled to this world, the Ningenkai, and took refuge in the womb of a newly-married human woman named Minamino Shiori. Nine months later, Minamino Shuichi."

"I guess that makes sense. As much as your kind can, anyway. Do you know that I've got thirteen separate programs and connecting subroutines dealing with the paradoxes of demon existence alone?"

"And I'll bet you'll need one just for little ol' me. After all, I've only met one other youkai who's got twenty or so different species of youkai in their genetic makeup."

"…Make that two." He leaves it up to her to decide whether he talking about programs or bloodlines.

"I feel special now!" So does she.

Deimos sighs in disappointment that she's turned the conversation's table on him again, and reaches into his pocket. He produces what appears to be one of the little finger-sticks that diabetics use to prick their fingers for blood-tests, and sticks his finger. "Here's a way for you to determine how much of me is what."

The bead of liquid that wells up is not the bright crimson common to humans, but a dark red color that smells very little of mortal. Aislin reaches out and collects the drop on her own fingertip, bringing it close to her nose as she concentrates. "Five…ten…thirteen different species, then human. I can't place a couple, but there's big cat, what smells like ox or something similar, bear, and a few that are known for regenerative abilitites."

"Pity. I was hoping to break a record."

Aislin wipes the blood off on a handkerchief pulled from her sleeve, looking serious as she does so. "Ichigaki was still a medical practitioner, despite his twisted methods. It is likely that he picked the fewest possible variants to keep rejection to a minimum. I was born with human blood shaped by youkai. You have human blood trying to shape youkai."

"Ye-eah. Very poetic. Hey, out of curiosity, how old do you think I am?"

"Thirty, tops," Aislin shrugs. "But then, I've never been the best judge of human ages. Youkai, to my eyes, are much easier to judge."

Blink. Deimos checks his math. "Actually, you're about right. Most people guess twenty."

"Eh, gambler's luck."

An eyebrow rises. "Gambler's luck?"

"A thief puts their life on the line every time they steal. Anybody in the shadow-world gambles—it's the 'what' that varies."

The cyborg rests his chin in one hand with a mildly bemused expression. "You know, most youkai don't sit down to argue semantics with me. Usually they just yell 'die' or some variation thereof, whip out some form of weapon, and charge."

Aislin's reply is amused and blunt. "They're idiots."

"I have an extensive photo folder of their expressions when I prove just that."

"I just have a photographic memory."

"So do I."

Fangs are bared in a wicked grin. "Before or after you were turned into a walking Salad Shooter?"

Deimos rises with a disgruntled expression and goes to the fridge, pulling out, of all things, a single ripe tomato. Grinning like a fiend, he pulls out a modified combat knife that hums to his guest's sharp hearing. "Call me an appliance, huh?" he mock growls as his hand blurs, perfect slices of tomato flying straight for Aislin.

"Oh, please," she retorts, "do you have any idea how hard it is to get red anything out of white wool?" The tomato slices make a wet slap sound as Aislin catches them on a plate that appears to be made of ice. Once all are neatly arranged, she sets the plate down and picks up a slice to nibble.

"Hm. I'm going to have to get some bigger fruit."

"Preferably something other than tomatoes. Kurama likes them well enough, certainly more than I do, but he also thinks brussel sprouts taste like little cabbages."

"I'm surprised you haven't pounced the knife yet."

Aislin gives him a slow smile and sends a familiar blade spinning across her knuckles. "Haven't I?"

"You have five seconds to return that."

"Then think fast!" _Whirr! Thud._ Deimos grimaces as he pulls the knife out of his forearm, a disapproving frown replacing Aislin's vulpine smile. "There are neater ways to catch those."

He resheathes the blade (somewhere) and locks it down before replying, "Granted. But I am typically only as fast as the average human."

She pouts. "You _could_ have dodged."

"Most knives don't pierce my skin. I forgot that mine is different and requires different tactics."

"So if I had that it would be that much easier to take you apart if I so choose. Good to know."

With a cheesy grin Deimos drawls in a lousy cowboy accent, "You cahn have mah knife when yah pry it from mah cold, dead mehtal fingers."

"Agreed." The female's grin can only be described as vulpine. "A bargain, then."

The cyborg scowls. "I forgot demons take such statements as pacts."

"It's a Game I still play regularly. One of the few, actually, and I can still catch koi at it if I try."

His mouth twitches. "I thought you said you were taken."

"I am." Her eyes gleam with laughter. "Haven't you connected the pieces yet?"

"I'm dense." And he bangs on one arm to prove it. Aislin just laughs and holds up her palm: before Deimos' eyes a figure materializes in the air above it, roughly the size of a Ken™ doll. A handsome kitsune man grins at nothing, flicking long silver hair out of golden eyes.

"This is my life mate. Gorgeous, isn't he?"

"No comment, but what's his name and will I have to fight him, too?"

That silvery laugh peals again, the image dissolving so that Aislin can clutch her ribs and gasp her merriment until tears run down her face to ping on the floor as green gems.

She doesn't bother to object when Deimos picks up several and whistles softly, using his cybernetic eye as a jeweler's glass to examine his palmful. They are revealed as flawless gems likely worth thousands even in the legitimate markets, clear as water in the sunlight. He pockets the stones he'd picked up with a mutter of rent being covered for a number of months.

Finally Aislin gets her laughter under control and recomposes herself, the remaining jewels disappearing—presumably into her pockets—before Deimos can even blink. "Oh, Inari's eyes," gasps the ice-fox, "I haven't laughed like that in years."

"You still haven't answered my question," Deimos grumps.

Aislin just grins and pulls out the Polaroid from before. "He's the one standing behind me." The only one there is Shuichi.

"Pull the other one."

Aislin clucks her tongue. "Forgotten his history already?" she chides, grinning to take the sting out. "Spirit fox? Fled to Ningenkai?"

"So I've already fought him."

"And you see why I laughed."

"He shredded my favorite coat."

"That's not something I can do much about. I'm Double-S, not a tailor."

"Double-S? Should I take that as really strong?"

Aislin's grin gets bigger. "Let me put it this way. Take Yusuke's Double Spirit Gun, add in his Spirit Wave, and times that by five."

"And?"

"That's me when I've been going non-stop for a week, on no sleep, food, or pause, effectively reworking the barrier between the Three Worlds by myself. Which I've done, by the way."

Blink. An attempt for his programs to process or even conceive it that fails. Another blink. "You know what? My bosses would have a conniption to say the least, if they knew that a being as powerful as you exists, let alone living in an allied nation."

"I'm part fox and a very old demon. I _live_ for trouble."

"Well, at least I'll have job security for as long as you're around."

Aislin tilts her head. "That depends. If I get really bored I might go to Sleep and hope for more interesting things when I wake up."

"I know that demons are long lived—especially compared to humans—but you seem to be in the extreme."

He's given a shrug. "I'm canny, I'm tough, and I'm scary as hell. Other demons stopped messing with me by the time I was your age. Same for Hiei."

Deimos smirks. "I was referring to actual lifespans, not survival rates. Of course—" he taps his watch and a holographic terrain map appears, circular and with only a few squares lit "—this is all of the area we've been able to study. The probes get taken out fast."

"Youkai like their privacy as a general rule. But here, let me fill you in a bit." Another disc overlaps the first, courtesy of Aislin's illusions, then splits into several layers, all but the lowest layer divided into three colors. "Demon World is ruled by three very powerful youkai who have existed for several centuries more than I have, named Mukuro, Yomi, and Raizen. Within the last few years, however, Raizen passed away and was replaced by his heir, our very own Urameshi Yusuke. Since Yusuke had no desire to rule, however, he convinced Mukuro and Yomi to abdicate their thrones in order to begin a Tournament. It acts much like your country's presidential elections, with the main difference that fists and intelligence determine the ruler instead of votes…"

She goes on, explaining that although the territories are united under one king or queen, they still keep their original affiliations, much as any sportsfans do; rules of behavior unique to the territories, what kind of youkai live on each layer, the more significant landmarks in each layer, etc. She also includes suggestions of things one should never do: like attack one of the still-existing strongholds.

As her reward for all of the very useful information, Deimos smirks and says, "Screw it. It's classified as all hell but I think you'll get a kick out of this toy." And he approaches the wall near that curious rifle-locker.

After going through a security system that makes even Aislin cringe at the thought of hacking it, the wall slides open to reveal what was likely said locker's contents. Aislin promptly starts drooling.

The base design resembles something close akin to a cannon, but the way the weapon is held makes it appear that the back portion is actually built into his arm, Deimos' hand supporting the massive beast from within.

Pure wonder shines in the youkai woman's eyes, tempered by greed and an insatiable curiosity at the mass of gleaming metal and flashing buttons. She'd sensed the creation through the walls and wards that feel as though they were made subconsciously, getting enough of an idea of what it was to call it a laser cannon, but she'd had no idea that it would look so utterly fascinating.

"Oooh…"

"Don't drool on the carpet."

"You don't _have_ carpet."

"Floor, then."

"A little water won't hurt it. Can I see the pretty? Pretty please with dragonblood on top?"

In response the muzzle is lifted so that she stares down the mouth of the barrel as a faint whine begins. Shock leaches the color from her eyes as the pure power being contained just within bombards her awareness, a small corner of her remaining calm noting that Deimos appears to be getting weaker.

The orb of energy being fed into the cannon is easily equal to that of Yusuke's Spirit Gun. From a man she would have sworn couldn't have powered a lightbulb.

Finally Deimos reaches underneath the back of his shirt, coming away with a plug that he gratefully sticks into a bright new socket—one which Aislin had sensed leading into a reiki battery of sorts. Immediately the tall man straightens and the trembling in the arm supporting his weapon eases.

"Fire that and you wouldn't have to worry about your security deposit," Aislin breathes, sitting utterly still in the way of serpents and stone, as that previously calm corner of her mind starts swearing at the gods of human technology for allowing them to advance so far. The rest of the things that she'd seen were like paper-clips and rubber bands compared to this. Beyond a doubt, it could kill most of her teammates in one hit. Even Hiei, if Deimos caught him off guard with it.

The energy begins cycling down, draining back into Deimos or into the battery. "Problem is with the power this takes, unless I've got an alternate energy source I only get the one shot." The gun/cannon is lowered as color—such as it is—returns to the cyborg's face. "The beam has a level approximate to the energy blast that Urameshi fired, but it's concentrated into a diameter of three inches."

"No need for a second shot," Aislin replies softly, "unless you're fighting Yusuke or myself. Hiei wouldn't be able to stand against it on the very odd chance that you caught him off guard. For Yusuke and I it would require two or even three shots, but with that weapon it can easily be done."

"You sound almost as disturbed as my employers when they found out about this baby—and that things exist that would need one of these things to kill. The scientists made this cannon as a last-resort item, well, there is that _other_ item but even _I_ won't touch that thing with a twenty-foot pole…"

Aislin interrupts. "Deimons, for the first time in over five centuries I have encountered something actually capable of killing me," she tells him, still sitting quietly with her hands curled in her lap. "That is…unsettling enough. If this other thing is capable of more, _I truly do not want to know_."

She sits in silence as the cyborg disentangles himself—literally, she can hear the sounds of wires snapping—and returns the weapon to its place in the wall. "Kinda funny," Deimos muses almost to himself, "that this was originally designed as an anti-meteor device; it's barely even scaled down from the original model."

Aislin just keeps sitting there, eyes pinned to the wall as though peeling away the layers, the thought of _'shit!'_ running endlessly through her mind occasionally interspersed with _'He has something that can actually kill me. A human. Koenma is going to have a whole shitload of heart-attacks. Shit. Shit-shit-shit…'_

Deimos, meanwhile, is having a very hard time keeping a straight face due to the fact that his guest is, for once, too off-balance to shield her expressions. Stark dismay is written on the elfin features, overlaying a growing fear. He can read her like a favorite book. She is _beyond_ unhappy.

"So how about that drink?" he questions, tone jovial. Aislin seems to snap from her trance, that vulnerable, unguarded creature once again vanishing behind solid walls and a composed mask.

"That sounds like a grand idea. I seriously need to get smashed now."

Deimos grins, collecting his duster and several items. The knife in his boot—_so that's where it went_, Aislin notes distantly—the gun on his hip, the clip of 'specials'—Aislin twitches—and a number of clips of standard bullets. The ammo disappears into his pockets as he turns to his guest. "I'm ready. Let's _see_ how much you can drink."

The ice-fox rises to her feet with a mirthless smile. "Let's. I have an urge to meet the record of Hiei's birthday binge by myself."

"Is my toy really _that_ scary?" he asks as they go out the door, the tall man locking it behind them.

"A creature who has not had to worry about that final dance with darkness for full centuries now must seriously reconsider, because of a bunch of mud-raking apes most of her people consider _food_. It's like a mouse walking up to a lion and killing it with a look. How would you feel?"

"Speaking from the perspective of the _mouse_ I don't see a problem with it."

"Then you still have a long life of learning ahead of you, Deimos. A _very_ long life."

———

Koenma looks up from his stamping as a white head pokes around the doorway. It's Aislin, and for once she has every one of her years haunting her eyes. "I'm taking someone on a binge, Koenma. If you don't hear from me in two weeks, wait that long again and send Hiei after me if I still haven't shown up. He'll know where to find me." And she disappears, only heavy footsteps indicating the size of that 'someone'.

"What the heck was _that_ about?" he wonders aloud as a pink-clad young woman bolts into the office from another door with her blue ponytail swinging from the force of her waving arms. "Koenma-sama! I just got word from Yusuke about his case in the US!"

———

_One month drinking binge later…_

Hiei strolls into Takenada's with a bored expression on his face. He's just walked past most of the adult population of this booming town of Pridesholt, once known as the thieves' den Baggit's Town, either retching, unconscious, or groaning about their heads. Most of the last are muttering things along the lines of 'Never again. Never, _ever_ again.'

_'Hn, only two-thirds of the bars closed,' _Hiei thinks to himself dispassionately. _'I expected _all_ of them to be closed given that she's had a month.'_

"Sho," he hears someone slur drunkenly from the vicinity of the bar, "we'sh gonna call 'er e'en orsh we gonna kee' goin'?" The fire apparition walks over, growling under his breath at the sight of a six-foot cyborg grinning down at _his _soul-sib, red-faced and a good twenty sheets to the wind.

Aislin is slumped on her stool with her chin cushioned by her arms, blinking owlishly at the empty glass in front of her. Hiei's growl turns to a groan; he doesn't even want to _know_ how many Demonslayers she's already poured down her throat. As he watches, Takenada himself sets three more glasses filled with the bright red concoction down on the bar. Wait—_three_?

"Thanks, mate!" A burly hand reaches from around the cyborg and grabs a glass. Aislin claims the second, the slender ice-fox and the Australian Drunk-fu master Chuu both swallowing them in one long gulp.

"What do you think _you're_ doing here, you inebriated jack-ass?" Hiei growls at Chuu. The giant, mohawked man grins in fine humor back.

"C'mon, mate. A drinkin' c'ntest wi'out me? Not happeen…hoppin'…not doin'."

Deimos chooses that moment to look around, not noticing Aislin swiping that third glass and downing it like the other. A broad smile spreads across the gaijin's face at the sight of a scowling Hiei standing amidst the 'victims' that had tried and failed to keep up with the trio. "Heey! Ish Puff the _Glarin'_ Dragon!"

"Ain't done drinkin'," Aislin says without looking up from yet another Demonslayer, her own words remarkably unslurred. "Come back nex' week."

"Pull up a share, mate," Chuu offers. "Good booze."

"One of us has to remain sober enough to get your asses home and keep all three worlds in one piece. Kurama decided to opt out." He adds under his breath, "Lucky fox." Hiei _hates_ rock-paper-scissors.

"Get drunk, porcupine head," Aislin advises sagely. "Booze makes everythin' better. Fuzzy, too."

"Wonder if'n it makesh m' lasher fushy, too," Deimos muses aloud before declaring, "I should go geddit!"

A glass smacks him upside the head, amazingly staying in one piece even as Takenada catches it and takes it to be washed. "Baka! I'd almost forgotten 'bout tha' thin'!" Aislin snarls. "Now I godda start over!"

"_What_ laser?" Hiei asks himself before remembering his priorities. And just _who_ his soul-sib is chumming with. "Snowflake, _why_ are you bingeing with the fool who attacked me without cause?"

"He's got lotsa stuff to steal." She pauses and thinks harder. "An' 'cause he's worth talkin' to."

"Beshidesh," Deimos retorts, turning to find his empty glass in front of him, "_you_ attacked _me_ firsht."

"You knocked me out of my tree."

"_Shaid_ shorry."

"Siddown. Drink." This from Aislin, shoving that familiar blood-hued drink into his hands. Figuring he's owed a vacation anyway, Hiei shrugs, climbs onto a stool, and lets that honeyed fire slide down his throat.

————

"_Why_ are we doing this again?" Yusuke demands as Kurama leads the three of them into the only open bar in town. Somehow, Takenada's is the only place still serving alcohol in the entire area of Pridesholt.

"Because I don't know about you, but I really don't want that lot to get any more besotted," Kurama replies easily, though an edge of displeasure keeps his voice from being its usual silk.

"I don't wanna do this!" Kuwabara complains from where he lags behind the other young men.

The three walk in and stop dead in their tracks. Kurama sighs, Kuwabara starts laughing hysterically, and Yusuke begs the gods for a camera.

Deimos, Aislin, Hiei, and an unknown demoness sit at a round table near the middle of the room, with a bottle laying on its side in the middle. All four are obviously so drunk that even the usually-sharp pair of elemental apparitions don't even register Kuwabara's gales of laughter—or Chuu singing drunken karaoke over in one corner. Kurama notes that the machine is new—because the last time he'd been here, it hadn't.

"Your turn," Aislin tells Hiei drowsily, and the fire apparition reaches out and sends the empty bottle spinning. The three newcomers freeze as the bottle slows, then stops, pointing between Deimos and the demoness. Straight towards _them_.

The four players look up, note the three frozen like deer, then look back at each other. Shrug. "Your pick, porcupine head." With a mild growl Hiei gets up and staggers towards the only three sober, non-working males in the entire tavern, glazed crimson eyes speculating.

Kuwabara hides behind Yusuke, who finds his head getting hauled down and feverishly-hot lips pressed to his. The carrot-top resumes laughing himself to death as Hiei staggers back to his seat and flops back into it. "Your turn," he tells Deimos. Yusuke stands there, stunned, for several moments.

"What…the fuck?"

Kurama sighs and rubs his temples. "I should never have taught those two that game."

"You _so_ owe me, fox boy."

"Urameshi and the shri-imp, sittin' in a—" _Slam!_ There is now a new entrance to Takenada's, courtesy of Kuwabara getting up close and personal with Yusuke's fist. Kurama ignores the exchange with the ease of practice, walking over to the table and picking up the spinning bottle.

"Aisuhana, ryu-kun, I am severely disappointed in you. You were both supposed to be back well over a month ago, and yet you still are here, drinking poor Takenada-san out of house and cellar."

"He's rich now," Aislin offers, eyes only half open.

"Yer schweetie'sh a real schtick in th' mud," Deimos complains to the ice-fox grumpily. The demoness chooses about this point to quietly pass out.

"'S a good lay, though." Yusuke joins his friend in joyful asphyxiation as Kurama blushes the same shade as his hair.

"Int' S'n'M? Got tha' whip 'n all." _Ker-BOOM!_ There is now a hole in the floor to complement the hole in the wall.

"HENTAI!"

"'Sho'm right!" triumphs from the hole. Aislin proceeds to curse him out in every language she knows, and as far as the _very_ embarrassed Kurama can tell, doesn't repeat herself once. His two companions are still trying to kill themselves by laughing.

"Okay, Aisu-san, I gotta call this party off." Everyone still conscious looks up and at the normal door at the new, authoritative voice. An armored cat youkai leans there, looking rather amused at the whole thing but perfectly ready to drag not only Aislin, but Deimos and Chuu out as well—by the ears if he has to.

"Yo, Mizu," Aislin mumbles. "Pull up a drink."

The cat grins, but shakes his head. "Sorry, Aisu-san, but two months is the legal binge-length here in Pridesholt. I'm the law 'round here, so if ya wanna keep drinking, head to a different town."

"'Kay." Aislin willingly gets up, takes about two steps, and then falls over in a stupor.

From the hole, "She unconshioush?"

Mizu calls down, "Out like a dead light apparition."

"Oh. Good." Deimos clambers his unsteady way out of the hole, commenting, "Now I c'n get rid o' thish shtuff."

Those able to focus straight watch in amazement as Deimos holds his hand over the hole, pure clear liquid draining from his fingertips. Two straight months of pure alcohol slowly drains from his system—what hadn't already gotten burned off as perfectly good fuel, that is. "She woulda conshidered thish cheatin' if I'da done thish durin' th' binge. But I still won!"

Hiei growls blearily; he's still awake, but he's only been here for half the contest so he doesn't count. No idea how long Chuu's been rip-roaring drunk.

"Yusuke, Kuwabara, whenever you two have finished," Kurama sighs as he scoops up the dead-to-the-universe ice-fox, fully aware that she won't retch—if at all—until she's awake.

Deimos, now completely sober, finally registers who the sniggering black-haired young man is. "You're underage, Urameshi."

"And you aren't s'pposed to be breathing, either," Yusuke retorts cheerfully. "Seems we're both doing something we're not."

"Legal drinking age in Pridesholt is fifty," Mizu adds comfortably. "You're in no position to be slinging 'should nots' metal man." Deimos opens his mouth to say something, reconsiders, and shuts it again.

"Reason number two I didn't join," Kurama says as he walks out with Aislin curled in his arms. "Will somebody please collect Hiei? I'd like to get Aisuhana home before tomorrow."

"What's reason number one?" Yusuke asks as he grabs up a grumpy Hiei and stretches his legs to catch up.

"I don't have the stomach for so much alcohol."

———

"Oh, my goddamn aching head," is the heartfelt groan about a week later from the lump underneath her blankets. "Something tells me I didn't win."

"That would be correct, koi," comes the quiet, dry voice of Kurama from off to her left. The rumpled head of Aislin pokes out from beneath her covers, blinking owlishly in the dim light at her life-mate. "Deimos did indeed win, though by a much smaller margin that I would have anticipated."

"Damn cyborg."

"What about the damn cyborg?" Aislin blinks towards the corner, where a wary yet amused Deimos stands in the shadows formed by drapes firmly covering the windows.

"The hell?"

"For some reason he followed us to your cottage. I have yet to convince him to leave."

"He's being tactful and not mentioning that he couldn't figure out how to get rid of me without blowing the place up."

"Kurama."

"I thought it unnecessary."

Aislin heaves a sigh, wrinkling her nose at the smell of alcohol still clinging to her skin. "Whatever. I'm too hung over to care." And she climbs out of bed and walks into her bathroom, completely disregarding the fact that she's thoroughly flashed both males doing so.

Deimos blinks, then looks over at Kurama. "Do you want me to delete that from my databanks?"

"We're youkai, Deimos, and quite old," Kurama replies easily. " 'Modesty' is something _other_ people worry about."

The cyborg holds up a finger. "Uh, remember? Technically human?"

Kurama's smile takes on a rather wicked edge. "You object to watching a beautiful woman walk in the nude?" he questions, false innocence sparkling in his eyes.

Deimos sighs, burying his face in his hands and shaking his head. "It's the fact that she's already taken that concerns me."

The expression on Kurama's face is utterly fox-like as he grins at the discomfited cyborg. "Why? You have more chance surviving the Sleeping Ones than stealing her away."

Deimos attempts to say something, ends up spluttering, and finally spits out, "You just live to irritate people, don't you?"

"One of his favorite Games, Deimos, ignore him," comes from the bathroom over the sounds of running water. "You'll be happier that way."

"Aisuhana…"

"Well? It's true, isn't it? I ignore you quite often and I'm perfectly happy."

Deimos is currently leaning against the wall, clearly making sure that he stays _out_ of this particular conversation. What surprises him is that neither youkai holds any malice in voice or—since he can't see Aislin—Kurama's face. No, the tone is entirely affectionate teasing.

"Should I return the favor?"

"You could try," Aislin calls doubtfully, "but you were never able to do it before we were mated, so I doubt you'd be able to now."

"Is that a challenge?"

"If you want it to be." A brief laugh from the showering female. "Though I'd bet you can't."

"The only reason I'm still here is the matter of our bet," Deimos says at last, looking as though he's keeping a most careful guard on his tongue. "Or else I'd leave and let you bill and coo at each other in peace."

"If we wanted to do something like that your presence would hardly be a deterrent." This is from Aislin. Kurama just grins as the organic portion of Deimos' face turns bright red while the video clip of Aislin replays itself in his mind. The fox is trying very hard not to laugh at his beloved's houseguest's extreme discomfort. He knows all too well the effect his aisuhana has on other people, of both genders.

Aislin walks out a few minutes later, mercifully clad in a calf-length robe, and gives her mate a kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to make some breakfast. Would you like some?"

Kurama kisses her back. "Dearheart, it's four in the afternoon."

"So? When was the last time that _I_ ate?"

Deimos, with a particularly sour face, pulls out what looks like an energy bar when Aislin makes him the same offer. "I'm set."

"Smells like a soldier's ration bar. Yummy."

"Hn. Ever eat dog food?"

Aislin shrugs. "When I was young and weak. I've had worse."

The cyborg glares balefully at the bar. "I swear the scientists are purposefully putting off finding ways to put flavor in these things. Can't have pizza my ass."

"Are you able to eat anything like normal food?" Kurama inquires politely. Deimos sighs and takes a bite.

"I can," he mumbles around his mouthful, "but have you ever tried going an entire day off a potato chip?"

Both youkai blink at him. "I don't need to eat for days at a time," Aislin says, "unless I burn significant amounts of energy."

"Nor did I when I was a full-blood," Kurama adds. "Even now I need to eat little, and only to replace what I burn off."

_I just had to choose that explanation for a couple of demons,_ Deimos sighs inwardly, rubbing at his head. _I just _had_ to choose that explanation for a couple of fricken demons._

"Well, if you _can_ eat, would you at least like something to take away the nonexistent taste of your sludgebar?" Aislin wants to know.

"Please."

A few minutes later Deimos and Kurama are seated at Aislin's small kitchen table while the ice-fox hums gaily around the cozy space. Most of a substantial, cross-culture breakfast is already laid out, including rice, miso, and pancakes. Deimos pokes jokingly at his rice with his chopsticks and asks, "I'm not going to have to kill any of this, am I?"

"No, no, you'll just need to pray that none of the ingredients poison you," Aislin laughs in reply. Kurama chuckles as well as he waits for his beloved to sit down.

"If you can actually manage to poison me the boys in R and D will love you for it," Deimos growls half-heartedly. "They were _dancing_ when they heard I'd survived reentry. They poured over the data like kids at Christmas."

"Christmas?" Aislin gives him a puzzled look that clears after a moment. "Oh, you mean Winsol!"

At Deimos' curious look, Kurama elaborates. "Winsol is short for Winter Solstice. Youkai celebrate much as humans seem to, exchanging gifts, hanging holly, singing songs to celebrate the winter season." A sharp smile. "We just don't bother with that nonsense of a so-called elf in a red suit. We've _met_ elves, including a Royal couple who are in charge of the forest near our old Thieves' Den. And no one who's ever seen one will ever mistake that rotund myth for one, nor even think of suggesting it." That smile gets sharper. "Not if you value living, that is."

"_Very_ touchy race, elves," Aislin snickers.

"So what you're saying is, don't ask them for a cookie?"

"Mmh," Aislin grins at him, "more like don't mention anything you see on television. Asking for a cookie is fine when you're a guest; they're wonderful hosts so long as you restrain those outbursts that gaijin are famous for."

Deimos gives her puppy dog eyes. Well, puppy dog _eye_. "Aw, was that an attempt to wound my pride?"

"You work for the American military." Aislin's eyes dance with mischief. "You still _have_ pride?"

"Yes, actually. I keep it in a little box hidden deep in my shoe. Where do you keep yours? In your icy heart?" Aislin sticks her tongue out at him as he adds, "Can I chip off a bit if I can find it?"

"Oh, no," Aislin tosses her head airily, "my pride's too big to keep in any part of my body. I stuffed it into my closet and feed it bits of ego now and again."

Kurama is wisely keeping his mouth shut except to eat. He's lost far too many arguments like this to bother jumping in. But it's going to be interesting to see how far Deimos gets against her.

Deimos mimes picking up an invisible rifle and sneaking off, putting a finger to his lips. "Shh! Be vewy vewy quiet. I'm hunting pwide."

Kurama chokes on a slice of pickled radish while Aislin just looks confused, the old Elmer Fudd catchphrase going completely over her head. Obviously the ice-fox has never watched a Saturday morning cartoon before. Deimos stares at her in utter disbelief. "You've never hear of Elmer Fudd before?" he asks slowly. Her snowy head shakes. "You poor, deprived demon." He looks over at Kurama and points at the startled ice-fox. "What have you been teaching this poor thing, fox?"

"Computers. Television's too boring for her."

"Koi's helping me learn nuclear physics," Aislin adds cheerfully, taking a sip of her miso soup. "That's much more interesting than sitting in front of a box and watching pictures move."

Horror dawns on the cyborg's face. "She's learning nuclear physics?" Nod. "_Nuclear physics?_" The ice apparition sits there calmly, eating while Deimos panics. "Tell me you haven't told her what the fissionable material is! Tell me!"

One snowy eyebrow rises over the steam of tea. "Uranium?"

Deimos blanches. "I need to go hide all of the uranium on the planet, now."

"Why bother?" Aislin wants to know. "Since I'm a rather eclectic mix of genetics I can make it with very little effort. It makes some very nice jewelry, since we youkai don't get radiation poisoning."

At this point, no less than five physics programs instantly, violently, and completely crash, leaving Deimos with one hell of a headache. "…Ow."

"I think you broke something, aisuhana," Kurama chides in a mock-condescending tone. Aislin pretends to wilt.

"I didn't _mean_ to."

Deimos is still sitting there with a hand pressed to his forehead, wearing a rather pained expression. "This is going to look rather odd," he says in a raspy voice several notches lower than usual, "but I assure you it's normal." _Thud._ Human eye rolling up in his head, Deimos falls out of his chair and onto the floor. Both youkai blink.

"He has voluntary epileptic seizures?" Aislin wonders aloud, leaning over and poking the comatose cyborg with the toes of one bare foot. The irised lid on the cybernetic eye swirls open, the ruby lens flickering on and off. Sharing glances and wordless shrugs, the pair turns back to their meal.

———

When Deimos wakes up, Kurama is still sitting at the kitchen table but Aislin is nowhere in sight. Sitting up with a grunt, Deimos looks around as his internal system informs him politely, _system reboot complete_.

"Ah, you're awake again," Kurama beams, "excellent. You've been out the rest of yesterday and it is now…" a quick glance of the kitchen cat-clock, "ten in the morning."

"That's a better greeting that what the guy in R and D gave me the last time I had to reboot," Deimos grumbles as he gets to his feet. He lowers his voice into a fake 'mad scientist' rasp. " 'Welcome back to the world of the living. Now grab a shovel and start digging!' "

"Digging?" Kurama's eyebrow rises. "Why would you need to dig?"

"Right, I keep forgetting, pop-culture—at the American—references don't make sense to you." The cyborg dusts himself off and runs thick fingers through that bright shock of carrot-red. "That was a quote from a zombie movie called _Army of Darkness_. You should watch it sometime, it's so bad it's good."

"Like so many programs are these days," Kurama sighs, "but that sort of thing is more Yusuke's forte than mine. I'm surprised you haven't asked where aisuhana is."

"I'm sure she's getting herself into trouble of some kind," the cyborg grunts. "She just better not be trying to wriggle out of our bet."

Crimson hair glitters when Kurama shakes his head. "No, my beloved gave you her word, and for creatures such as she, Hiei, and I, our word is fair literally our bond."

"But I was right about the first half?"

"Hai, she is. Right now, Aislin is busy with Koenma, getting clearance for your tour of the other worlds." The fox smiles in reassurance. "But don't worry about missing your chance to play tourist. All she'll have to do is call in a few favors and you'll be set."

"I have a feeling that asking what those favors are is none of my business."

An indifferent shrug. "Two years fighting in the Dark Tournament, various uprisings that she's flattened by herself, and a number of our less…salubrious peers brought to justice." Kurama gives another shrug. "Nothing too difficult for her ilk."

"My ilk indeed," a tired voice retorts as Aislin slowly walks into the kitchen, looking as though she'd been dragged backwards through a few hedges. "Honestly, Yoko, couldn't you come up with something more flattering?"

"What's more flattering," Kurama croons, catching her hand and dropping a kiss on the knuckles, "than an incredibly powerful, absolutely stunning, ruthless, clever woman?"

"That's better," Aislin sighs, mollified. Deimos, tensed for a smackdown that apparently isn't coming, slowly relaxes.

_Damn, the fox is smooth._

"So," Aislin yawns, looking at her guest, "are you ready for your tour of the other two worlds?"

"Yeah, sure, why not?"

"Good. Put this on." And she hands him a laminated yellow square with a clip attached, upon which is written, _'Hello, my name is Deimos. I'm a guest of Prince Koenma'_.

Deimos glares at the card with a dubious air. "This is a joke, right?"

"No, it's not," Aislin snaps, obviously the grumpy type when she's tired. "It was one of the conditions to get you in. _I_ think it's a load of slug-youkai dung but I have my end of the bargain to keep." She shoves the card into his hand. "Either you wear it or your end of the deal is null and void."

The cyborg glares at the card so hard you almost expect the laminate plastic to melt. And for a brief moment, the sharp noses of the two foxes catch the faintest hint of burning plastic. Then with a sigh, Deimos reluctantly clips it to his shirt. "I swear, the first ogre to laugh—"

"Will be pounded into the ground for bruising _my_ pride," snaps the ice-fox. "Which is why I'm saving Spirit World's Palace for _last_. In the Makai, everyone damn well knows to keep a straight face."

"Whether or not they choose to," Kurama adds dryly, "is a measure of their intelligence, life-span, or power-level." A wry smile. "Sometimes all three."

"So I'm guessing that anybody who laughs is stupid, long-lived, or powerful?" Deimos tilts his head. "Don't all three cover a large chunk of your kind?"

Aislin's grin is predatory. "Not quite, metal-man. Anyone who laughs is either very stupid and about to die, very smart and very experienced, or so strong that they can survive one of my attacks."

"Not quite along you line of thinking, obviously," Kurama says serenely. "You need to put yourself into a slightly more violent and ruthless mindset if you want to guess a demon's way of thinking."

"I've found putting myself into that mindset is very unhealthy for me…or rather, those _around_ me."

Silvery laughter fills the kitchen as Aislin gives Deimos' bicep a friendly swat. The blow, while light, still nearly staggers the cyborg. "Oh, good! You'll fit in just fine!"

Deimos glances at his arm and just for a second swears that there's a hand-shaped dent before he shakes his head. _Nah. Even if she is ungodly strong, she should still break her hand before she dents me. Must've been imagining things._

"So do I get to keep my weapons or should I leave them here?" Deimos queries. "I may not be as famous," _or infamous_ "as you but I'll bet there's still a few demons out there thirsting for a piece of my metallic hide."

"Keep them, of course," comes the prompt reply. "I don't feel like supplying you with weapons every time someone oversteps their bounds."

———

Lieutenant Jacobs sits at a quiet screen that shows only exotic plants underneath a blood red sky. The surfaces around him are littered with empty Styrofoam cups that testify to the dullness of his job. Or least, the normal dullness.

("…Yomi's territory,") he suddenly hears over his headphones, his wandering attention suddenly riveted on the screen, ("so we can relax a bit.") Blue eyes widen when a petite woman clad entirely in white steps into view, walking a few steps ahead of a familiar giant. ("Most of the hot-tempered youkai live in Raizen's territory—or what was Raizen's and now officially Yusuke's.")

"Sir! Orange alert! Camera seventy-two!" Jacobs calls over the sounds filling the rest of the room. Quiet envelops everything as Jacob moves aside to allow an older gentleman to view the screen.

("I still can't believe I'm wearing this tag.")

("_I_ can't believe that no one's bothered to jump you here, yet,") is the crackly retort to the oft-voiced complaint. ("Now stop harping on it and enjoy the view.")

("I've been looking at red sky and carnivorous plants for the past two days, woman. It's _old_.")

The Major pokes a thick finger at the screen in accusation. "Agent Deimos is walking with a demon."

"Yes, sir."

"And the demon is walking with him."

"It appears so, sir."

"_Why_?"

Jacobs peers at a little yellow tag hanging from the lapel of Deimos' duster. "It appears she's giving him a tour, sir."

("…caused all sorts of havoc with all the fools trying to jump you at the last one,") crackles the female's voice in wry humor, ("so Mukuro's citadel is the last one you're getting close to.")

("Spoilsport demon. Just because _you_ object to getting into brawls…")

("They're boring with just the dregs to fight. If we'd found Hiei over at Mukuro's citadel I could've…shit. Deimos, it's that plant again. Walk around.")

And those watching the screen see the cyborg give a spiky, blood-red plant a wide berth. The female edges within a couple of feet and aims a ball of pale blue energy at the growth. In a shattering of the light the plant turns into a dark ice sculpture nearly buried under sharp-edged crystals. ("Getting common around here,") Deimos observes.

Aislin snarls, the fur on her coat fluffing up. ("Damn Yomi for a _fool_ for letting this stuff grow! Is he trying to murder us all?")

("Maybe he's just careless,") Deimos suggests blandly to thin air, and his companion barks laughter.

("No chance! Yomi's a lot of things, but careless? Never!") The pair draws even with the spy-eye, and turquoise eyes are caught by sunlight glittering on slick surfaces. She strides over, continuing her voiced thought. ("No, Yomi has to have a reason for growing it. It's what that reason could be that has me worried. Is this one of those probe-thingies you told me about?")

("Huh?") Deimos walks over. ("Yeah, it is. Why?")

Instead of answering him, the ice-fox crouches down until her face fills the screen. Jacobs leans back instinctively at the way irritation glows in slit-pupil eyes. "Nosy busybodies," she says in flawless English. "You will have a wealth of information when your pesky, annoying agent gets done with his vacation. Now mind your own business!" And the screen dissolves into static.

——————————

There's a smidge more, but I'd like to get more down before it gets posted. What's left really isn't more than a paragraph or two. Thanks for taking the time to read!


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